


little bat, little bat

by shewarbler



Category: Dalton Academy Series
Genre: Gen, Goretober 2018, tw for violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 13:52:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16368809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shewarbler/pseuds/shewarbler
Summary: Goretober prompt - kidnapping.





	little bat, little bat

**Author's Note:**

> Don't ask me where this came from, because I don't know.

Shane had been missing for three days when the first letter appeared. They almost missed it – mixed up within catalogues and junk mail, the plain white envelope went easily unnoticed in the midst of all the chaos. When it was finally opened, hours after its delivery, the reactionary scream resonated throughout every room in the house.

“Reed? Reed!” Micah called out, rushing to Reed’s side when he saw the smaller boy in a heap on the floor. Small locks of perfectly curled hair littered the hardwood around them; the pristine white paper a stark contrast to the rich oak floor.

“It’s…Shane…this is his!” Reed sobbed uncontrollably, gathering up the curls and cupping them gently in his hands. “There’s a letter, Micah. I couldn’t read it but it…it…oh god, he’s in trouble isn’t he?”

Micah gingerly picked up the envelope by its corners, conscious of contaminating what he expected would be evidence, and pulled out two small notecards. The ivory paper was stained with deep red calligraphy, words impressively carved out in a way no amateur would be capable of. Micah read the card aloud without previewing it beforehand.

_How did we lure the Little Bat, you ask?_

_That, we can assure, was no easy task._

_His hair so sweet, so soft and pure,_

_You would want retreat, from here we are sure…_

“Little bat, that’s...that’s what the Twins call Shane.” Reed whispered into the silence which followed, “Someone has Shane? Oh my god, I’m going to be sick.”

As Reed scrambled to his feet and dashed toward the kitchen, Micah felt his own stomach churn in a way he had learned to associate with dread, fear…and death. He flipped the cards around and felt a cold shiver run down his spine at the familiar rhyme. Micah couldn’t help but sing-song the rhyme in tune, the sounds of Reed’s vomiting punctuating the end of every line.

_“Twinkle, twinkle, little bat!_

_How I wonder where you’re at!_

_Up above the world you fly,_

_Like a tea tray in the sky…”_

_*_

The second envelope appeared two days later. The mail deliveries to the house were being intercepted by the FBI for any traces of evidence before anyone inside even got a whiff of its existence, so the appearance of the same red stained envelope by the door came as a shock to everyone. No one was sure how to react. Blaine wanted to take it straight to the FBI. Micah wanted to see what was inside first. Reed just stared at the intricate letters and wished the entire thing would spontaneously combust.

The envelope sat squarely in the middle of the table surrounded by concerned looking faces as fingers twitched anxiously.

No one moved.

And then, a flurry of movement all at once.

Reed shoved himself away from the table with such force his vacated chair toppled to the floor and stormed to the window. His hands were visibly shaking as they ran over his face and through his slightly matted strawberry curls. Blaine took in Reed’s appearance while he stared out the large bay window onto the front lawn and couldn’t help but feel an immense sense of pain at the sight before him. The sunlight streaming in only served to illuminate how pale Reed looked; his sunken eyes and the worsening bags underneath them; his broken, skin picked lips. The way his mismatched clothes hung from his small frame in such an uncharacteristic manner highlighted his hunched shoulders and the way he hugged himself tightly – as if his entire being was threatening to crumble if he let go.

Blaine forced himself to look away and moved to scoop up the envelope, “We should just hand it over. It’s not fair to put Reed through this.”

“You think taking it out of the room is going to alleviate any of what he’s going through?!” Wes snapped. Unable to make use of his family resources to help find Shane, Wes had become increasingly frustrated and was taking it out on everything around him.

David stepped up and firmly grasped Wes’ shoulder with a stern look, causing Wes to sigh loudly and sit back down. Ever the peace keeper, David turned to Blaine. “He already knows it’s here, Blaine. He…we might as well know what it says before we turn it in.”

Taking the envelope from Wes, Micah perched on the edge of his seat and carefully opened it, casting wary glances in Reed’s direction every couple of seconds. It didn’t matter much, he wasn’t looking anyway. Micah turned the envelope on its head and emptied the contents onto the table, revealing two notecards which silently floated down along with a small vial which clattered against the oak. Sharp gasps were followed by stunned silence as the entire room stared at the liquid contained within the glass, watching as it rolled back and forth before coming to a stop on top of the cards.

“Is that…that’s…” Kurt stuttered, unable to take his eyes off of the bottle.

“Blood.” Dwight said plainly.

“Oh my god.” Blaine walked away from the table, hand covering his mouth.

“What do the cards say?” Wes enquired.

While Dwight carefully inspected the small bottle filled with the deep red liquid – closer than anyone else wanted to get to it – Micah gingerly picked up the notecards and scanned them briefly. He visibly swallowed and cast a glance to Reed. “I don’t…it’s not good.”

“Micah,” Reed said quietly from the corner. His eyes were closed, face still aimed as if he were looking out the window, and calmly gave his instructions. “Just read the cards.”

A single tear silently ran down his cheek as he listened to Micah clear his throat.

“The first card…the first card it just the same poem.” He said, eyes carefully trained downward. “Y’know, the twinkle twinkle one.” Quiet murmurs of agreement came from the room – no one needed to hear the creepy rhyme again. “The other card is new.”

Micah took a steadying breath and read the contents of the card in a surprisingly even voice.

_“His blood so red,_

_From the thud of his head._

_We’re close, Dormouse,_

_Won’t you come play house?”_

The only sound which followed Micah’s shaky breath was the thud of Reed’s limp body collapsing to the floor.

*

An entire week passed with no more signs or communications from the ‘kidnappers’, as police were calling them, and every lead they had was turning up empty. Aside from the lone patrol car outside, the FBI had packed up days ago and reassured the boys that, whilst they weren’t closing the investigation, while there were no fresh leads there was no point in wasting their resources. And off they went. With no further evidence of Shane’s disappearance, the boys were left to ruminate over what little information they had.

Around ten days after Shane’s disappearance, the boys gathered for what could only be described as an intervention. Reed hadn’t eaten a solid meal over the entire duration of this ordeal, only snacking on whatever he could grab during the early hours of the morning.

“What do you expect him to do, have a full course banquet every night?!” Wes exclaimed in anguish.

“Of course not. I just think we need to start…preparing him. He can’t go on like this much longer.” Micah tried to reason. He sighed deeply and ran a hand over his face, “I don’t want to admit it any more than any of you do. But it’s been over a week now, and there’s no fresh leads. I don’t want to give up hope, but…”

“But you think he’s dead.” Came a quiet voice from the doorway. Reed shuffled into the room, still in his dressing gown, and stood in the centre. “All of you. You’ve…you’ve given up on him. You think he’s dead, don’t you?!”

Micah rushed to Reed’s side and tried to lay a comforting hand on his arm. Reed however violently jerked away and fixed him with a stern glare. “How could you? He’s supposed…you’re supposed to _love_ him, Micah! How could you give up on him like this?”

Reed scanned the room with red rimmed eyes that burned with a ferocious, accusatory fire. “All of you! You know him, you know Shane. He’s strong, he’s determined. Nothing can beat him.” He fixed Blaine with a glare that made the entire room flinch. “And you, Blaine! He’s your goddam brother! After everything he’s lived through, everything _we_ have fought through…you think he won’t survive this?!”

Silence echoed throughout the room, Reed’s shaky breathing resonating into every corner. Everyone looked at the floor, not daring to move. Reed’s lips began to quiver as fresh tears prickled his eyes, his burst of anger very quickly moulding into familiar heartbreak. Micah pulled his small frame into his arms just as a sob cracked through his chest. Still, no one moved.

Suddenly, the speakers came to life and Han’s voice interrupted the uncomfortable moment. “Guys…I, uh…I found something.”

Everyone sat up a little straighter as David leaned into the microphone, “What did you find Han?”

Han cleared his throat a little, obviously hesitant to share his findings. Eventually, he spoke quietly, “I’ll put it on the screen. I’m so sorry.” The large projector screen flickered to life in front of the room, and the picture that came to life shocked everyone.

Shane sat on a wooden chair under a spotlight in the centre of the screen, flanked by two figures in matching Alice In Wonderland masks – resembling the Tweedles. Gazes flickered to the Twins in the room, who shifted uncomfortably and clung onto each other for reassurance. Shane’s hands were behind his back, presumably bound, and his breathing was laboured as the camera slowly panned in on his face.

“Oh my god…” someone whispered as the pictured focused. Shane’s usual bright face was bloodied and bruised, a cloth tied in a tight gag and fresh blood dripped from his nose.

Off screen, a scrambled voice boomed through the speakers. _“Hey! Wake up! Come on, it’s showtime.”_

Reed whimpered as Shane’s head was roughly yanked upward by the hair, exposing his swollen-shut eye and crooked nose. The cloth was pulled free from his mouth and Shane gasped for breath as spit and blood drooled from his mouth. His head repeatedly threatened to drop forward, but was prevented every time by the hand in his hair.

_“Reed…Reed…”_ Shane choked out before coughing violently and crying out in pain.

“What the hell is this?!” Wes demanded, standing and moving closer to the screen. “Han, where is this coming from?”

“I have alerts set for as many things linked to Shane as I could think of. This just appeared on the dark web. It’s….it’s a live stream, guys.”

_“Alright, pretty boy, time to do what we practiced.”_ The camera panned back enough to see both figures move closer to Shane. When Shane didn’t respond, a rough slap echoed as Shane’s head whipped to the side.

“What the fuck kind of sick game is this?!” Micah asked to no one in particular.

_“To anyone watching this. My name is Sh-Shane Anderson, although some people ma-ay know me as…as Little Bat.”_ Shane’s eyes visibly darted between the figures in the room while he paused for breath, every heave of his lungs sounding rattled and painful. _“I have been…have been initiated by the…the…fuck this.”_ Shane stopped suddenly and leaned into the camera as much as possible. _“Reed…Reed if you’re watching this, I love you. I love you so much and I want you to know I’ve never stopped thinking about you, not even for a second.”_

_“That’s enough. Silence him.”_ The original voice demanded.

_“No, no! Please! Just let me-!”_

Shane’s pleads were roughly cut off by a smack to the face with something that glimmered in the spotlight. His head whipped in the opposite direction to before and blood sprayed from his mouth. A second swift swing smashed against his rib cage, the crunching sound of metal on bone making Micah’s stomach churn.

Reed stared at the screen in frozen terror – tears streamed his face and his mouth formed around soundless words as he watched the love of his life be beaten on screen.

“Han, what the hell is this?!”

“Can’t you shut it down?|!”

The shouts came from everyone in the room, almost drowned out by the cries of pain from Shane.

“If I shut it down I won’t be able to find where it’s coming from!” Han yelled back, sounding scared and frantic.

A third figure came into view from behind Shane, and in a flurry of movements had pressed a metal pipe to Shane’s throat and held his chin up with a ridiculous amount of force. Shane visibly struggled against his bindings and the grip on is neck, his shoulders thrashing frantically before more blows came to his face and torso, punctuating his every crying word.

_“Reed! I’m sorry! I lov- no! Reed!”_

“Stop! Please! Shane!” Reed sobbed out as he pressed his hands against the screen, eyes wildly scanning for unlocatable relief. Shane’s features were hardly recognisable any more – every part of him was swollen, broken and bloodied and there was nothing Reed could do to make it stop.

“I found it.” Han’s voice suddenly came over the video feed, providing a little relief from the whimpers and crushing noises. His voice held a haunted tone; suspicion and fear evident from the start. “I found the signal location.”

“Then shut it down!”

“No, you don’t understand. The signal, it’s…it’s coming from inside the house.”

*


End file.
